


It's (Hopefully) Helpful

by Ash__Gray



Series: Everyone is (Not) Alright [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Trans Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Unsympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash__Gray/pseuds/Ash__Gray
Summary: Dr. Picani just wants to help those who have seen the horrors of the imagination, and what better way is there to do it than to start his own therapist's office?  With the help of his newfound friend Remy, he discovers a purpose in providing insight into the lives of all of Roman's citizens, ranging from the Teenage Dragon Witch to the boy with the hoodie that looks more exhausted and weak every time he stops by.OrEmile just wants to help people, but why can he never seem to get it right?This takes place in the same universe as It's (Not) Logical, but you don't need to read that to understand the plot of this story.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Series: Everyone is (Not) Alright [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672192
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	It's (Hopefully) Helpful

The first feeling he felt was the feeling of falling.

An itchy cloth was tightly tied over his eyes, blocking out any hope of catching a glimpse of the rough hands that shoved him, or how long he had until he hit the ground. He supposed that was for the best, but the petrifying feeling of nothing, nothing but the heavy thrash of a vengeful wind and the sinking feeling in the bottom of his chest, left him to assume his existence would be a short and gruesomely pointless one. 

Just when he was convinced that he was going to die, he was caught. Strong arms brought his descent to a sudden stop, setting him lightly on the ground and taking the cloth off of his face with the most care that he had been shown in his fifteen minutes of living. He was safe, and the person who caught him, a prince dressed in the finest shades of red, white, and gold, was smiling in his direction. 

He was safe, and yet his heart was still threatening to burst through his ribcage, and it still didn't feel like his feet were actually on solid ground. 

"Fear not, my darling damsel! You are safe now, thanks to the heroic Prince Roman! I shall conquer your foes and return you safely to the kingdom!" Before he could respond, the prince charged off in the direction of the tower, leaving him alone in the middle of the cold woods. He shivered, sinking down to sit on a rock on the side of the path, and he waited.

It took two days for him to work up the courage to look for the prince in the tower that he was pushed from, and all of three seconds to realize that he had been abandoned.

\--------

As Emile grew older, he realized just how lucky he was. He was alone when he formed; he didn't have to watch his companions die before the prince could save them, like that group of six year old children that stumbled into their village, and he didn't have to see anyone suffer on the long and terrifying journey to find civilization, like the twin who ran into town carrying her pale and sickly brother on her back. He made it to his quaint village, and lived to choose a name for himself and grow as a person. He wasn't kidnapped by his tormentors every week to wait to be rescued, like some favorite damsels, and he was able to suppress his fears enough to keep living.

But every latest victim of the imagination that he encountered made his blood boil. How dare this so called Prince bring people into the world, to rescue and discard for sport. Entire villages were fearful of the man in red, resigned to the suffering and trauma that he subjects them to. 

So when he turned 15, he left his village with a heart of revenge, swearing to himself that he would stop the prince by any means necessary. Along the way, he helped the victims that he found, both those who were forced to be villians and those who were born in a helpless situation like he was, forced to be damsels. 

He met the teenage dragon witch, a sweet girl who loved to bake and provide herbal remedies to the sick in her medieval village. She became his best friend, even though she turned into a huge dragon every other week for Prince Roman to fight. He met a charming teacher who knew little in terms of typical knowledge, but loved to take the children at his school on field trips to learn about different occupations, and the forest around them. He inspired children of the realm to make a future for themselves that they can control; Emile wished that he had such a kind spirited mentor in his youth. He met many great citizens of the imagination, all different and unique. They were all slightly traumatized by their original purpose, but they found ways to work together and support each other, and they built a bright future together.

Through these people, Emile's view shifted. He grew out of revenge like he did an old pair of sneakers, it made his chest feel tight and wrong with the pressures of the guilt that constricted it. Instead, he chose to help those like him. He started a search and rescue team in every village he passed to find those abandoned in the woods, he taught local witches about the home remedies of his best friend, and showed concerned parents about the importance of orphanages and school systems, even if it only served to teach about the possibilities and functions in the town itself.

It was on one of his shifts as the leader of a new search and rescue team that he met the strange man in the black leather jacket with a contraption that he had never seen before. 

"Girl, what are you doing all the way out here?" The man called, taking a sip out of a sparkling cup and raising his darkened glasses. He seemed to be around the same age as Emile, but held an air of confidence, sarcasm, and mystery. He looked, acted, and talked in a way that Emile had never encountered before, making him a cultural anomaly that called for Emile's investigation. 

"Umm…" he trailed off, caught off guard by the blunt nature of the question. Usually those he found were tired, petrified, or a convoluted mixture of both. "I'm Emile, and I'm here on behalf of Stonewall's search and rescue team, would you like to come with me? We can get you help."

"You think I'm the one who needs help? Honey, no. I have my bike, my starbucks, and a job to do. You on the other hand, walking alone on the very outskirts of the imagination, are a different story. This is literally the furthest path that you could possibly take, and isn't Roman's village right by his entrance? How did you even make it this far out?" The strange man seemed completely indifferent with his questioning, coming off to Emile as more skeptical than genuinely concerned.

"First off, there are many villages across the imagination, not only the one manipulated by the supposed Prince Roman. I came from a village about 20 minutes from here, so it's really not that far. Second, I don't know what this bike, or Starbucks is, but-"

"You've never had Starbies?" Emile was surprised that this was the part the stranger seemed shocked by, but let him continue, "Roman truly is cruel, how could he have excluded them from the imagination? Even Remus has Starbucks, and Remus-"

"Who's Remus?" Emile asked, trying to make sense of the man's words.

"Right, you wouldn't know him. Maybe I can take you there after this, I only have Logan and Patton left anyways, and then I can show you my reason to live. I'm almost out of coffee anyways."

Emile didn't know how to understand, much less process the activities of the man in front of him, but he was kind, if not a little sarcastic, mysterious, and, quite frankly, intriguing. "Okay," He answered, stepping a bit closer.

"Girl, what are you waiting for? Hop on!" The man extended a hand, pulling Emile closer to the strange thing he was sitting on. Carefully, Emile sat on the bike like the man in front of him did, nerves finally catching up to him. "Trust me doll, you're going to want to hold on for this one. I don't bite, unless you want me to."

With that singular statement, he became a blushing mess, wrapping his arms awkwardly and loosely around the torso of the stranger.

When the bike took off, however, he was holding on for dear life. It was faster than any horse he had ever ridden, and it grumbled ferociously as they cut through the forest with inhuman speed. Someone in the distance was screaming, and the stranger was laughing. He realized he wasn't breathing, despite the wind whipping through his hair and stinging his face, and he took a deep breath. Once he did, the screaming stopped, and he sheepishly realized that it had been his own. He took a few more deep breaths and opened his eyes, watching in awe at the sheer speed the trees were passing by at. As he collected himself, he glanced at the stranger's back, and realized that he had never given a name.

"Hey!" Emile asked, shouting over the angry screech of the bike, "What's your name?" The stranger chuckled, coming to a stop in front of a large set of doors in the tallest wall that Emile had ever laid his eyes on. Emile let go of the stranger, who stood up and helped him back off of the bike.

"I'm Remy, and girl, you and I are going to have some fun together." With that, Remy pulled open the door, which revealed a large library with endless rows of shelves that seemed to stretch up for miles. "Follow me." Remy called, holding open the door.

And Emile did, despite the voice in the back of his mind screaming that Remy would change everything.


End file.
